


Soltha Shorts

by imacashew



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Hello I'm Dead Campaign
Genre: Angst and Feels, Don’t copy to another site, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hello I'm Dead Campaign - Freeform, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2019-09-27 17:24:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 2,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17166149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imacashew/pseuds/imacashew
Summary: Soltha has lived a long time, but her experiences and life have made her very kind.---Some drabbles that were written about my D&D character, Soltha Eythertylar: 300-year-old hermit Wood Elf Cleric.  Shorts will be added as I write them.  Mentions to other characters in the Party will happen occasionally.  I don't expect people to understand the reference.





	1. Companionship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A meet cute.

They met a few years into her solitude.

She had heard that the plague had hit a small town, about a day’s walk from her own cave.  As she packed her bag with some supplies, she wondered if it was even worth taking a look.

She went anyway.

As soon as Soltha stepped foot into the small town, the air was thick with sickness. She could tell. The signs were familiar.  Her own family fell to this air, this sickness.

Her heart clenched as she saw small children (an elf, a human, and a dwarf) huddled around a tiny dying fire, trying to warm each other by their body heat and failing miserably.  She started towards them, conjuring her sacred flame to her hand and already looking through her bag to find something to ease their pains.

She was cut off by a large figure.  They had greenish skin, long, dark hair tied back with a strip of leather, and wore a charcoal grey traveling cloak.  They knelt by the children and offered a hand to them. In their hands were food and a translucent potion of some sort, Soltha couldn’t tell what kind.

The children looked frightened by the imposing figure, but the dwarf noticed her behind them, startled by her own hooded figure, illuminated by the holy flame.  The dwarf child’s friends followed her gaze, trembling.

“I mean no harm,” she murmured, voice a little hoarse from disuse, “I just want to help.”  The large figure turned to her, showing their strong, but beautiful features.

Their silver eyes watched her curiously. They continued to watch her as she used the flame in her hand to light the children’s fire and ease their symptoms. Soltha smiled, heart lighter when they seemed satisfied.

The elf stood to her feet and started walking to the town center. She didn’t get far before a deep voice called out.

“Wait!  Elf! Hold on!”

She turned, the large figure right behind her.  Soltha froze.

She could clearly see now that the figure before her appeared to be a male half-Orc, dull tusks protruding from his lips. Her green eyes widened.

“Uh?  Yes?” He looked her over while she did the same to him.

She noticed the greying hairs around his temples and laughter-lines that crept around his eyes.  He held his hand out to her in greeting. A strong hand with calluses on the palm and fingers.

“Bjartr,” He said with a smile, “That’s my name.  What might yours be?” Soltha raised an eyebrow.

“...Soltha,” She said, hesitant.  “My name is Soltha.” Soltha shook his hand, staring at their hands.  Her pale, dirty, and slender fingers met his green and thick ones. And now that she saw him at his full height, he towered over her.

“Nice to meet you, Soltha.”

* * *

 

_Bjartr was very talented in healing, she had to admit.  He didn’t have cleric magic like her, but he did have druid magic.  He lived off the land, much like her, but he lived in or near that town._

_He grew up there.  He told her that he couldn’t abandon it when the sickness came.  She understood that._

_Seeing Bjartr work made her want to stay near the town and offer her services._

_So, she did...for a little while._

* * *

 

For a few months, she found herself going back to the town, over and over.  Soltha found herself examining plague victims and taking notes.

She also found herself spending time with Bjartr.

Bjartr made her happy.  He made her feel loved.

He made her feel like there was nothing wrong with her.  She didn’t think she felt this way about anyone before. She felt like a child again, unsure of her feelings with no direction to follow.  

One day, she sat in his hut and ground herbs in his big, earthen mortar.  The paste got thicker and she added a bit of water from the bucket next to her.  As she worked, she felt eyes on her. She looked up and felt lips meet hers. She kissed around short tusks and ran her fingers through his peppered hair.

She knew what those feelings were.  She loved him. Loved him with all of her heart and soul.  

Soltha could be happy with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My elf had a half-orc lover early on in her hermitage, but based on lore, that can be proven to be very tragic. He's dead in current canon, and has been for about 180 years or so?


	2. Scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bartjr and Soltha, every scar has a story.

She watched as he rubbed a rough, green thumb over her hand, tracing the scars that lingered there.  Soltha rested her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes for a moment. 

“So many scars on your hands,  _ zemar _ ,” He murmured under his breath. He gently flipped the hand over and followed one of the thickest on her palm with one of his fingers. She opened her eyes again and watched before looking up at him. 

“They’re hideous, aren’t they?  I never had so many when I was younger. Not many of my people seem to even have scars like this...”  Soltha’s voice was quieter than usual, which faded as she felt a gentle weight on the top of her head. 

“My father once told me that Orcs show their scars with pride. Every scar was a victory, a story to be told.”  He traced the scars again and it tickled, “When I see your hands, Soltha, I see stories. So many stories. Stories that I’ve heard, stories that you haven’t told me yet.  They are what makes you, you.”

She looked at his hands, calloused and scarred, just like hers. She turned her hand over again and slid it in his. 

He squeezed it gently and she smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whenever I make a new character, they have scars. It's very personal to me that they do.


	3. Appearance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She wasn’t sure when she stopped caring about her appearance.

She wasn’t sure when she stopped caring about her appearance.

It could have been seventy-five or a hundred years after her self-imposed exile.  She stopped bothering to braid her hair (like her mother did for her when she was so, so young).  She stopped bothering to even brush it.

After spending time with decaying corpses and sickness, the smell of her own body was nothing to worry about.  Body odor was a triviality in what she was going to accomplish. She was sure that she was going to accomplish much more important than a constantly clean cloak or daily bath.  

Not like a legitimate daily bath was even possible in her situation.  She had no access to soap. Water was usually a stream, river, or lake.  The fish probably thanked her for not using soap. 

With the minimal amount of time that she spent around other people, no one would judge her for smelling too horrible.  The only living company seemed to be the birds who flittered around her cave entrance, taking refuge in their trees. The mice that shared her cave didn’t seem to mind either, used to the wild scents of the forest.

After another hundred years alone, it was just something that didn’t matter anymore.  All she had was a few reanimated animals and her books. There was no one to judge her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a running joke in our campaign that Soltha is a stinky hermit, but I've actually made it canon that she's not the cleanest person out there. She's been on her own (minus the time with her boyfriend) for about 200 years, so it doesn't matter so much.


	4. Judgment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It would have been kinder for them to hate her.

Sometimes, she thought it would have been kinder for them to hate her. 

The disapproving and pitied looks bore into her when they thought she wasn’t looking, searing her soul.  The silence dug deep into her brain, reminding her that they thought she was in the wrong. 

She was hurting and they ignored her.  They wanted her to feel ashamed and guilty.  The unspoken words of, “Your mother would be very disappointed in you.”

This was their judgment.  This is how her clan did things: make you feel guilty on your own and only then you can be redeemed by Guela.

She didn’t want to be redeemed by the Goddess of the Wood.  She needed to learn more. This could help people. She knew it would.

If she could get her mother back too, she could be happy again.

Hatred would have made it easier to leave; the clan would never take the easy road.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before Soltha's self-imposed exile, she lived in a nomadic clan.  
> She also attempted necromancy to bring back a loved one.


	5. Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Soltha was young, her mother would sing to her.

When Soltha was young, her mother would sing to her.

Often, when her mother braided her long, red hair, an Elvish melody would escape her lips.  The words would flow out of her like a gentle stream, washing over her in song.

She would also sing as she cooked over a fire, folding laundry, or even dancing with her in their small tent.

Sometimes, Soltha would even join in.  Her singing was never as good as  _ O’si _ ’s, squeaking songs came from her lips, clashing with the lovely soprano.  _ O’si  _  would smile regardless of the attempt, gathering Soltha in her arms, and laughed.  Her laughter sounded just as melodious as her singing.

When her mother laid on her deathbed, brow shining with sweat and cheeks hollow, Soltha held her hands as tight as she could.  An echo of a melody struggled from her  _ O’si _ ’s lips and tears fell from dark green eyes.

It wouldn’t be long before the song came to an end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soltha's driving force in her backstory was the death of her mother.
> 
> O'si = mother in Elvish according to a translator I found.


	6. Lifespan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An undeniable fact, Soltha/Bartjr.

At their healthiest, Elves could live well past 700 years. This was an undeniable fact. Her people could live for centuries without feeling the pains of getting older. Without getting weak. 

This occurred to her after being with Bartjr for several years. (Was it five? Ten? Fifteen years?  She lost track in the companionship.)

She watched as the grey in his hair became more plentiful, turning black into a dark silver. She’d watch the crinkled lines next to his eyes when he smiled get deeper and more plentiful.  She’d come to help him when his joints stiffened and he’d have a hard time getting up from his seat. 

The quickened mortality of half-orcs were a curse to their happiness. She would be still living when he was hundreds of years dead and back with the earth.  After him, did she even want the same thing? Wouldn’t it be easier to just go back to solitude?

She was with him when he inevitably passed, just as she was with her mother when she passed. A scene so familiar as she took his hand her hers, the paleness of her long fingers entwined with his thick green ones. She pressed her forehead to his and kissed his lips. 

“I’ll see you soon,” she said as strong as she could, tears threatened to fall from her eyes.  She stared into the soft silver eyes that she meet several years ago, never changing as the rest of the body did. 

“Hopefully not too soon,” he murmured, age creaking into the low voice. 

“No, not too soon,” She promised. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't have a half-orc/elf ship. It kind of hurts the soul after a while.


	7. No One Was Supposed to be Hurt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No one was supposed to get hurt.

Her hands shook as she tried to stop the bleeding on the young half-elf’s shoulder.  He wouldn’t stop bleeding.  His green eyes squeezed shut and he shuddered.  Her heart squeezed.

A shout from above her caught her attention and she looked up to see a spray of blood gush from more of her companions.  The human and dwarf fell, crimson painted the ground.  She had to reach them too.  The human was still breathing, she could tell, but the dwarf…

She couldn’t tell from this distance.  Her eyes widened.

A growl rushed by her.  A black form pounced at the enemy, white teeth bared.

“Shayra!  No!”  She screamed, her small voice falling on deaf ears.  The panther, too, fell and changed back into another angry half-elf.  Blonde hair became an ugly brown with blood.  Her ragged breathing almost sounded like another growl.

They just wanted their friend back.  Their girl.

They had a plan.  A good plan.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.  No one was supposed to be hurt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A tumblr angst prompt featuring the rest of Hello I’m Dead: Norm the Human Fighter, Skip the Half-Elf Ranger, Shayra the Half-Elf Druid, Chanty the Dwarf Rogue, with mentions of Ara the High Elf Sorcerer. 
> 
> There were a session where Ara was taken by guards and her shitty noble family. This was a hypothetical outcome.


	8. The Definition of Insanity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soltha and the nth attempt.

As she dragged the knife blade across the bridge of her nose, the cold, sharp steel biting into her skin, Soltha thought about what she’s been told before. 

The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over expecting a new result. 

It had been years since her last attempt. She had studied and and made new theories to test. She had tested those theories. 

They were all the same result. 

She dropped the bloodied knife into the dirt next to her. She wiped her hand over the deep gash, spreading the blood over scarred fingers. A swipe of her other hand and red covered it, spreading the blood over her freckled face. 

Her nose twitched. 

She bit her lip and grasped her amulet before dropping it at her chest. This wouldn’t work. 

She channeled her magic through bloodied fingers. Magic crackled at her back, spreading through nerves and the branches of the tattoo on her back. Splayed fingers hovered over the small bird on the ground, red dripping on the blue feathers. 

Magic flowed through her blood, basking the bird in a heavenly teal glow. 

The bird twitched. 

She wasn’t insane after all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soltha has made many attempts before the start of the campaign. This was one of her first successes, a small blue jay.


	9. Tattoo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soltha and her tattoo.

When Soltha was small, she would feel energy dancing through her fingertips, begging to be free.  Sometimes, she would indulge it and let it free.

(Setting it free would result in small brush fires or the blankets being aflame.  Both disappointed  _ O’si _ very much.)

The more she set it free, the more trouble she caused.  The more trouble she caused, the more upset her mother became.

On a cool Spring night, she gripped  _ O’si’s _ fingers tight and let her lead her into the old man’s tent.  He gave her a grandfatherly smile and patted her head. He asked  _ O’si  _  to sit down on a fluffy cushion and waved a glowing hand over Soltha.  Her eyes grew heavy and the world around her went dark.

When she awoke, the energy flowing through her fingertips wasn’t as strong and her back was sore.  She couldn’t set the energy free as easily as she did before.  _ O’si  _ had smiled and told her she did well.

When she arose, she got a glimpse of her naked back.  The skin was inked in a dark green, nearly black, a magnificent branched tree with leaves that reached her neck and the boughs reaching her shoulders.  The trunk traveled along her spine and the roots reached her hips, spreading along the pelvis. 

A symbol of their goddess.

_ O’si  _ said it was a seal to protect her.  A protection from Geula to keep the energy from hurting her and the clan.

A seal to help her control the energy and use it in her own way.

She decided that her own way was to help as much as she could.


	10. Mother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soltha thinks about her traveling companions.

She was old enough to be all of their mothers. She was old enough to be some of their grandmothers.

Soltha thought about this a lot. This alone caused an ancient feeling to creep along her spine and settle in her belly.

She knew several healing spells. Spells of protection.

Anything to keep them safe. 

But would that be enough?  Did she have to start praying again? Try to renew her faith in something long dead?

They didn’t want her protection. Didn’t want her to _mother_ them.  The feeling didn’t want to go away. 

She let it grow. 

She felt it when she scolded Skip in Elvish after he did something foolish, as boys of his age do.

She felt it when she hugged Ara tightly when the girl was on the verge of tears, afraid. 

She felt it when she agreed to help Chanty with magic. The grin on the dwarven girl’s face made her swell with pride.

She felt it when she healed Shayra after a failed attempt at scaling a wall, relief flooding her veins.

She even felt it when Norm, dazed after not eating enough rations, took the food she handed him.

She would care for them and protect them as if they were her own. 

They needed her, whether they admitted it or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love my friends’ characters. I care too much, so Soltha cares too much.


	11. Damned Beyond the Veil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *internal groaning*

“I don’t understand,” Ara asked as she tilted her head, eyes flicking between the book in her hands and Norm in front of her. He took the book from her, reading over the passage she just read herself. 

“What the hell is there to understand?” Shayra snapped, kicking a pebble, “She left him for the other woman!”

Ara’s silver brows furrowed as Norm piped up, “But weren’t they in love?” 

“But of course they were!” Chanty yelled, pausing in playing the hurdy-gurdy, “But she had a passionate affair with the woman and they had a truer love!”

A debate continued as Soltha groaned, face in her hands. Skip stared in confusion, “...Do I want to know?”

A muffled, frustrated answer, “Damned  _ Beyond the Veil _ .”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Beyond the Veil” is a long running joke in the world of Hello, I’m Dead campaign. It’s one of those generic romances. But with a lich! And magic! 
> 
> Soltha hates it.


End file.
